


Failure

by CyberneticFire



Series: Once Burned Twice Shy [1]
Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Child Abuse, Child Ghirahim, Demise is Not a Good Master, Demise is a sick fuck, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fi isn't in this fic but that seemed important to tag, Gen, Ghirahim Needs A Hug, Ghirahim and Fi are siblings, Ghirahim is younger here than in canon so his personality may seem a bit...optimistic?, Hurt No Comfort, Hylia Created Ghirahim, Naivety is a bit strong too but I'm sure Demise will fix that real quick, Physical Abuse, Pre-Canon, Sword Siblings, Touch-Starved Ghirahim, Victim Blaming, Violence, Whump, as opposed to flamboyant, he does get there eventually tho I believe Being Dramatic is already a part of him, he's technically a child in this?? he's younger and has a smaller form at this time, saw that tag once and it is ACCURATE
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 10:21:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28633935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CyberneticFire/pseuds/CyberneticFire
Summary: Ghirahim likes to believe he's doing a great job serving his new Master!...It's getting harder to believe that even if he tries his best. Demise has never been known for his patience, and Ghirahim finally understands why.orGhirahim does his job and is still punished for being "inadequate". Being the Demon King's sword comes with many more things that he hadn't considered - being a scapegoat was one of them.
Relationships: Demise & Ghirahim (Legend of Zelda)
Series: Once Burned Twice Shy [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2172303
Comments: 7
Kudos: 10





	Failure

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't posted a Zelda fic before- I'll keep the rambling brief but stay safe and be aware of the tags please! I don't know how big the part of the fandom that loves and appreciates Ghirahim is, but him being nothing more than a villain never sat well with me. In my opinion Demise wouldn't be a good master. At all. Ghirahim is sworn and bonded to him in my hc so he couldn't exactly disobey if he wanted to at this point in time. Anyways- On with the story!

Ghirahim was _ecstatic_. Finally! He'd completed this mission, triple checked the work to be _sure_ he'd done it correctly, and was going to show his Master! 

...Granted, the 'mission' was simply to get Demise's sword cleaned and repaired as soon as possible by a worthy blacksmith; his Master had been _unusually_ clumsy during a skirmish and had managed to fracture the blade. Ghirahim had dutifully dealt with the pain in his ribs for _days_ afterwards, but it wasn't like Master had done it on _purpose._ Ghirahim had simply...distracted him with his words- He just had to be more careful about that in the future so Demise wouldn't miss again!

The little spirit had the sword awkwardly slung over one shoulder as he made his way to where Demise was seated, overlooking a map of sorts. Despite the weapon being about twice his height, Ghirahim was thankfully _much_ stronger than his size implied. He didn't want to put the sword away just yet - Master should see what he'd accomplished. Feeling refreshed himself as a result of the cleaning, Ghirahim had to fight to keep his smile from breaking into a grin at the thought of pleasing his Master on top of that.

"Master, I've returned and accomplished exactly what you asked of me!" The spirit was quick to bound to the Demon King's side and present the sword, waiting excitedly for the other's attention to fall to him…only to be soundly ignored. Ghirahim resisted the urge to rock impatiently as Demise didn't so much as glance up, let alone offer any indication that he'd heard - but he wasn't going to let that dull his mood! Whatever his Master was busy with right now was probably more important...

Just as Ghirahim was questioning his own sanity at considering trying to get Demise's attention _again_ , the Demon King finally turned to the little sword spirit and his proudly offered 'prize'. Ghirahim didn't let his mood dampen at the stony look he was greeted with- Demise simply never offered much in the way of expression, but the spirit sometimes hoped for a little bit... _more?_ Instead of saying this of course, Ghirahim just ducked his head a tad lower into his scarf to hide his smirk. After all, he'd done this job _perfectly_ , so maybe he would actually be getting that extra bit of attention today!

Without a word, Demise took the sword. With nothing to occupy his own hands now, Ghirahim curled his claws into the red fabric at his neck, watching with rapt attention as his Master scrutinized the obsidian blade, seeming to take in every detail. Ghirahim had followed his instructions down to the _letter_ , and there was no way he could have failed this time, so he was simply waiting for the praise that was sure to follow this observation-

"What is this?"

...And with three words, Ghirahim's train of thought came to a screeching halt. Confusion was the first to bubble up, the spirit's eyes going wide and his brows furrowing as he flinched away from the cold tone. Demise's voice had been a low rumble, calculated and utterly devoid of emotion, while his eyes never left the blade. Try as he might Ghirahim just couldn't see what it was that annoyed his Master so.

"M-Master?"

Ghirahim received his answer in the form of Demise backhanding him so violently he saw _stars._ The little spirit hit the floor _hard_ and couldn't bite back a cry as his head cracked against the black marble.

Vision doubling, he jerked his hands up to cradle his throbbing head, curling at the pain, breath hitching in shock - Then the sound of a dull _thunk_ stood out at Demise stabbed the sword into the wood of the table. Ghirahim tried to force out a question, a plea, a _why_ , but he could only manage a vague whimper as claws sunk into the front of his scarf and _yanked_ him upright and into the air.

Nausea bubbled up as his head _spun_ with the sharpened pain that came from being forced upright so fast and Ghirahim blinked rapidly to clear the spots from his vision while his hands unconsciously moved to grip at Demise's wrist. It was hard to breathe with the fabric tightening around his throat, but it was harder still with the utter _glare_ his Master was shooting him.

"I asked you: _what the hell is this?"_

Ghirahim's eyes went _wider_ if possible. Speaking would've been difficult even without the pressure at his neck or his heart attempting to lodge itself in his throat. He should've said something - _anything_ \- different but he _didn't understand what he'd done wrong-_

"Y-Your sword-! I did everything exactly like- like you asked-! I made sure I d-did it just like you wante-"

He didn't get to finish as he was dumped unceremoniously onto the floor. His scarf was still in Demise's claws. Ghirahim didn't _think._ He scrambled backwards, _away_ , feeling so vulnerable, so exposed without it and if Demise looked angry before he was looking _murderous_ now-

The scarf was discarded without a second thought. Ghirahim didn't get very far before Demise was _looming_ over him and tangling claws in his hair and ripping his head back, forcing another panicked cry from his lips as his hands grabbed uselessly at the larger one, tears springing to his eyes from the pain-

"You don't _ever_ run away from me, coward! _Do you understand?"_

" _Y-yes-!_ I-" He cut off with a yelp as Demise jerked his head back again. That was followed soon by a hiccup as Ghirahim struggled to force down the sobs thickening in his chest while he squeezed his eyes shut.

 _"I didn't tell you to keep talking._ If you would learn to _be silent_ you wouldn't be in this situation. I don't care for your rambling when it is full of nothing but _excuses_ and pointless drivel!" Demise's other hand came to rest on the side of the spirit's neck and Ghirahim couldn't restrain a flinch, teeth sinking into his lip to stifle a whine as his eyes pressed further shut. Demise voice was a low growl. 

" _Look_ at me."

Ghirahim _desperately_ didn't want to, but still reluctantly opened his eyes, fixing them on his Master's terrifyingly irate expression. His breaths were coming in shallow puffs and he was all but shaking in the other's grip, even as Demise slowly loosened the hold on his hair. The hand still around his throat gave a threatening squeeze and Ghirahim could hardly dare to _breathe_ as he let his Master do as he pleased.

"You don't even know what you did wrong." It came out as a statement, something low, even, and a drastic difference from the yelling, but somehow it just made the pit in Ghirahim's stomach grow larger. The hand untangled entirely from the spirit's hair and instead brushed it away from his face almost carefully, exposing his other wide, watery eye and the rapidly darkening bruise forming beneath it.

Shifting his hand to hold the side of the spirit's head could have been seen as gentle if not for the violent actions a few seconds prior. That and the fact that Demise carelessly brushed a claw over the welt, eliciting a hiss and a pained look as he pressed on the small black diamond that marked Ghirahim as _his._

"All you need to know is that _you failed._ And your excuses are _worthless_ to me!" Ghirahim flinched, a whimper actually escaping this time at the pressure on the wound. He wanted to nod, to signify that _yes, he understood_ even if he _didn't really_ because his Master was right, he was _always right_ no matter what-

 _"You belong to_ _me._ If you ever try to run again or disobey I will do _much worse_ than scare you. Have I made myself clear?"

Ghirahim quickly decided that if _this_ is what Demise constituted as simply scaring, then he didn't want to see how much worse it could get. He nodded as best as he could, hoping with everything in him that that was _it_.

Then Demise _did_ smirk. More of a _sneer_ as one corner of his mouth twitched up to expose his sharpened teeth. The hand slid down from the spirit's face to the other side of his neck and Ghirahim hardly had a moment to widen his eyes and gasp in a breath before Demise was putting more pressure and cutting off air and _choking him-_

Grabbing, tugging, clawing instinctually at the larger demon's hands did _nothing_ and Ghirahim couldn't even force a breathe out to whimper or beg or plead for forgiveness, he could hardly struggle against the much stronger force, his kicking and squirming did little, and he _couldn't get away_ as the tears finally slipped free and left tracks down his face and Demise's eyes were full of _cruelty_ and _malice-_

And as soon as it had started, Demise released and let him collapse into a coughing, gasping heap on the floor. There he remained on his knees, hunched over, gingerly holding his neck as he struggled to breathe between the shuddering sobs that forced their way up his bruising throat.

"Next time you tend to my weapon, ensure the demon you bring it to doesn't ruin it even more."

A loud _clang_ ripped a ragged yelp out of the spirit as Demise threw the sword down in front of him, recapturing his terrified gaze as he stared at the weapon so deeply connected to himself.

He couldn't stop _shaking._

"Take it back and do it _right_ this time. And stop crying. You're _pathetic,_ whelp _._ So far you haven't proven yourself even the _slightest_ bit worthy of being my weapon. Don't come back until my sword is _fixed."_

Ghirahim bit down hard on a knuckle to stifle the sobs, shoulders shaking from the effort, as he kept his gaze on the floor instead of meeting with Demise's. He still flinched as the Demon King stalked past him and out of the room, taking his suffocating presence with him.

Ghirahim took all of a minute to compose himself, lowering his choked breaths to something resembling normal if not a little shaky, and scrubbing the tears away from his eyes, mindful of the aching bruise. He let his disheveled hair fall back over his face and sniffled as he glanced around for his scarf.

 _There._ Pushing himself up, he half staggered his way over, dropping to his knees again next to the pile of red fabric, trying not to break down at the sight of the tattered edges- it was still _useable_ and he _would_ be using it until he could mend it again…

Despite how much he glared and tried he still couldn't stop the wretched trembling. He snatched up the article of clothing and pulled it over his head, tugging the front well up over his mouth and ensuring it covered all the purple splotches he _knew_ were going to bloom against his pale skin before standing again, slightly steadier this time, and making his way back to the sword.

The weight of it was almost enough to stagger him now in his weakened state. He really was a rather pathetic sight, wasn't he…

Ghirahim swallowed thickly then let out a sigh at the ensuing tightness in his throat. Things would be...fine. All he had to do was get it fixed again. Fixed _right_. Then maybe he could...probably not please Demise - not _today_ at least - but at least avoid some _much worse_ fate. 

There was little time to think of this as he _did not_ want to be here if his Master returned, so he hurried his way to the door, hoping he looked more composed than he felt. This was humiliating enough as it was without demons commenting on his shakiness or the puffiness of his eye...

He allowed himself a brief curiosity for what might happen if he just- _didn't come back_ like his Master unwittingly suggested; then he let reality take over again. There was nowhere else for him to _go_. And despite today's events, he couldn't quite fault his Master's actions- He shouldn't have messed up in the first place. And the first emotion that popped into Ghirahim's head when he thought of his Master was still _admiration_.

...Even if fear was rapidly becoming a close second.


End file.
